


Like Lighters in the Dark

by TasteTheRainbow



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteTheRainbow/pseuds/TasteTheRainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen thought that spending two weeks with his grandmother in the middle of nowhere was the worst possible way to start the summer before his senior year in high school.  Jared just might find a way to change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Lighters in the Dark

The first Saturday morning in June is meant for sleeping off the first hangover of the summer, regretting the hook up from the end-of-the-year blowout last night before remembering that nobody is going to care about it when you get back to school in three months, and building up an anticipation for ninety straight mornings just like this one. 

“You're not even trying.”

Jensen tears his attention from the wide diner window and focuses it on his little sister, rolling her eyes in the booth across the table. “Oh, believe me, I'm trying.” 

Trying to forget that their parents decided to take some second honeymoon cruise and shipped the kids off to their grandmother's in Bumfuck, Nowhere for two weeks. Trying to get over the way he's missing the formative weeks of this limited hook up season. Trying not to think about the fact that all the worthy fuck buddies will be taken by the time they get back home. Trying to convince himself that this isn't the biggest blow to his social life since he wore braces in junior high.

Mackenzie kicks him under the table and then narrows her eyes at him. “It's not like we can do anything about it, so suck it up and stop being so depressing, okay?”

“Just as soon as you stop being so melodramatic,” Jensen counters, raising one eyebrow as he taps a finger against the table. The only thing worse than not being with his friends for three weeks is being forced to hang out with his fourteen-year-old sister. 

He's about to say as much when the waitress approaches their table and asks, “What can I get for you guys this morning?”

She's the kind of girl he's only seen in those country music videos his brother, Josh, used to jerk off to a few years ago. At least, that's what Jensen always assumed he was doing with them; the alternative is that he actually enjoyed the music and, being as that seriously diminishes Jensen's hero worship of him, he chooses to believe it was bumpkin porn instead.

Long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail away from her smiling face, flawless skin, perfect curves, mile-long legs in tight, little shorts? Yeah, she's pretty hot, objectively speaking. Aldis would most definitely approve. 

“Can I get a short stack and some orange juice?” Mackenzie asks, kicking Jensen again when he stares a little too long at the waitress's chest.

He startles at the contact and then flashes her – Danneel, her name tag says – a wide smile. “Just coffee.”

She returns his smile, eyes glinting with guarded amusement. “No breakfast? You sure?”

Strategically pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he nods and winks. Works like a charm, every time. “I'm good.”

Instead of blushing, she just returns his quirked eyebrow and gives him a blatant once over before letting her smile widen to something just this side of predatory. “I bet you are.” 

It almost surprises him, reminds him of Katie back home, but Danneel turns on her heel and disappears before Jensen can continue the flirtatious dance they've only just started.

“You're so gross.”

With a nonchalant shrug, Jensen sinks lower into his seat and says, “Hey, don't hate the player.”

“I don't,” Mackenzie shoots back. “I just hate that he's my stupid, big brother.” Her eyes go wide before she can continue, fixed on something over Jensen's shoulder. “Oh, wow.” 

“What?”

“Super cute cutey right over your shoulder.”

Never one for subtlety, Jensen twists in his seat to see a tall, lanky kid in a thin tee shirt and jeans standing at a nearby booth, shaking hands with one of the older diner patrons. His hair flops in his face and he laughs with dimples that do absolutely nothing to affect Jensen whatsoever.

It's almost as though he knows he's being watched when the kid slowly looks toward their table and catches Jensen's eye. If Jensen didn't know better, he would swear that the guy winks at him before spinning gracefully toward the counter to strike up a conversation with someone else old enough to be his father. Could be his father for all Jensen knows. Or cares. He doesn't care.

“I think I might like it here,” Mackenzie sighs, gaze still fixed on the corn-fed hottie when Jensen turns back around to face her.

The guy's cute and all, Jensen can give him that much, but he's not willing to change his entire opinion of the place based on one set of a dimples and some wind-tossed hair.

*-*-*  
It takes Mackenzie exactly four hours to make a new best friend, which is great for her but it leaves Jensen to explore the town and entertain himself. If he felt like it, he could probably strike up a conversation with someone, but he doubts it would be very interesting and he'd probably just end up hating it here more than he already does.

Somehow, he manages to find his way to the fishing hole, a small lake toward the edge of town where Pop used to take him every summer. Armed with a little blue pole and a Styrofoam box of worms they'd dug out of the yard, they would sit on the bank for at least an hour – Jensen was young and his attention span wasn't very long – while Pop taught Jensen and Josh how to bait their hooks and then laughed when they cast their lines backward or when Jensen would scream ' _Come and get it_ ,' at the top of his lungs when his worm hit the water.

They were terrible fisherman, but Pop never told them they were doing it wrong. 

Jensen lowers himself to a rock near the water's edge and sighs. After Pop's funeral a few years ago, when the family was busy pretending that food was going to comfort Gran, Jensen's dad brought Josh and him out here for a few uninterrupted moments of silence and remembrance. It had been months since Jensen even talked to Pop – he'd been too busy growing up and having friends to make time for anybody else – and with the guilt weighing on his heart, he couldn't appreciate his dad's gesture for what it was. 

He's not even sure he gets it now, but this is the first time since he arrived two days ago that he doesn't hate everything he sees, so maybe that's something.

It's peaceful, beautiful and serene, perfect for a covert blow job with a closeted jock. He extinguishes the thought before it can fully form; that doesn't belong in Pop's happy place. Innocence lives here, a simpler time when seeing his grandfather laugh at his stupid antics was the only affirmation Jensen needed, when one pat on the back meant more than all of the orgasms in the world ever will. 

“It's really pretty, huh?” 

Jensen startles. It's too quiet out here; he should have heard someone approaching. He doesn't get taken off guard too often anymore.

Of course, it's the kid from the diner this morning. Dressed in baggy cargo shorts now, he has a baseball cap pulled low over his shaggy hair, but the dimples and the light in his eyes are exactly the same. 

He has to clear his throat to answer, but Jensen nods and manages a whispered, “Yeah.”

The kid sets a tackle box on the ground and then follows it down, legs stretching far in front of him and crossing at his ankles. “I'm Jared,” he introduces easily.

It occurs to Jensen that he should be irritated – this is his time with Pop's memory after all – but maybe the tranquility of the setting is calming him. “Jensen,” he answers.

“I know.” Jared's cheeks flush a little as he looks down at his lap and then back up again. “Uh, I asked Danneel this morning at the diner.”

“And how did Danneel know?”

Jared shrugs. “Danneel knows everything.”

“Does she know I think you're adorable when you blush like that?”

Okay, so it's a cheesy line, but Jensen lives and dies by them. Guys who are into him think they're cute. Guys who aren't let him know right away. Allowing himself to be interested in someone who doesn't return the sentiment is frustrating and wastes valuable time, so he'd rather just know up front.

Chuckling, Jared pulls his hat down lower over his eyes and turns his head toward the lake. “She did mention you mighta seen somethin' you liked.”

“Coulda been that guy you were talkin' to at the counter.”

Jared nods his agreement. “Mr. Walker _is_ pretty sexy.”

“Mm hm.”

“He's also my Physics teacher next year.” Those dimples make another appearance when Jared cuts his eyes toward Jensen. “Not my thing, but if you're into older, balder, married fathers of six, I could probably hook you up.”

Jensen has the overwhelming urge to slip over and wrap Jared up in a tangled hug; the kid is too damn cute for Jensen's own good. He's also possibly too good to be true and about a thousand other cliches that Jensen loathes and abhors back home.

When he only winks in response, Jared laughs and shakes his head. “You're nothin' but trouble, aren't you?”

“Oh, I don't know. I like to think I'm a lot more than that.” 

“I'm sure you do.”

There is something in his voice that punches Jensen in his gut, but he shakes it off to ask, “So what do you guys do around here for fun?” When Jared casts a glance at his tackle box, Jensen rolls his eyes. “There's gotta be more than that.”

Jared's answer is, “You're kinda condescending, you know that?”

“Yeah, I guess that's what you get with us cocky city folk,” Jensen drawls.

His palm is warm through Jensen's jeans when Jared reaches over to shove him a little. “Please. You may not be a country boy, but you're hardly from the city.”

That knowledge cuts a little closer to Jensen's reality than he likes, puts him on the defensive immediately. “At least we know how to do more than fish.” 

Even as the words are coming out of his mouth, they feel like an attack on Pop and Jensen wishes he could take them back. He stands and runs his hands over his jeans, too disturbed by the turn this conversation has taken to stick around. He doesn't owe Jared a damn thing. He can walk away.

He takes three steps before Jared calls out, “Meet me at the Bait and Tackle at nine tonight. I'll show you what we do around here for fun.”

Jensen doesn't commit to anything, but he has to admit that he's intrigued.

*-*-*  
He only goes to the Bait and Tackle because Mackenzie has three new friends spending the night at Gran's and they're watching Jennifer Aniston movies that make Jensen want to vomit violently. Whatever Jared has planned has to be better than that.

Jared's words are sticking in his head - _You're kinda condescending_ \- when Gran drops him off and Jared is the only one in the parking lot, leaning against his truck, texting someone. Jensen expected something else, though he isn't sure what exactly. He pastes on a smile and fights the smirk, the 'prove yourself to me' expression that is fighting to break the surface.

“You ready?” Jared asks, slipping his phone into his pocket before twirling his key ring on his finger.

Jensen nods and climbs into the cab, surprised when CCR's “Fortunate Son” blasts from the speakers as Jared starts the engine. “Huh,” is all he says.

Jared just smiles knowingly, a look that Jensen is starting to think he's going to be seeing a lot.

Lame as it sounds, Jensen has a lot of expectations. For example, he expects to drive to the outskirts of town, maybe out to somebody's farm, where kids are getting trashed, dancing in truck beds and fucking in the shadows or something. He's expecting _Footloose_. What the hell does he know about life out here in the middle of nowhere, besides what he's seen on television?

They do drive out to a farm, but there's no party raging into this Saturday night. Jared drives down a dirt lane, past the plain, white house, and parks in front of a two-story barn about a hundred yards from the road. The sky looks fake, brilliant orange and red, as the sun begins to sink behind the green fields stretching endlessly beyond the barn.

Jared kills the engine, pats Jensen's thigh with one hand, and then jumps out of the truck without waiting for Jensen to follow. 

The sand pit behind the barn is blazing with a small campfire. One guy strums a guitar while five other people sit around on bales of hay, nursing beer bottles and speaking just loud enough to be heard. 

It doesn't take Jensen long to inventory of the situation and nudge Jared with an elbow. “Did you bring me to a couples' party? Am I your date?” 

It's hard to tell if Jared blushes in the firelight, but it's easy to feel his hand against the small of Jensen's back, just under the hem of his shirt. “You objecting?”

Jensen fights to keep his cool against the warmth that shoots up his spine. “I think I can deal.” 

Someone gives him a beer and Jensen tries to remember names, but he just doesn't care. Maybe Jared's right, maybe Jensen is condescending, but the only person who's managing to keep his interest at all is Jared. The others seem nice and everything, it's just that they aren't casually touching him and flashing him dimpled smiles that cause his brain to short circuit mid-sentence. 

After about twenty minutes, the guy with the guitar grabs his girlfriend and drags her off toward the house. Jared joins in the catcalls and the guy flips them off, but Jensen just reaches for another beer. Mocking people for getting laid doesn't really amuse him anymore.

By eleven, the other two couples have also called it a night, one of them leaving and the other heading into the barn. Jensen does raise an eyebrow at that one.

“Ah, man, come on. You haven't fucked until you've fucked on a bed of hay,” Jared teases with a wink, straddling the bale they're sitting on and rubbing one wide hand up over Jensen's neck. It's very distracting.

Jensen turns toward him, only to find Jared's face just inches away. “Sounds itchy,” he intones, licking his lip as nerves he hasn't felt in years bounce around in his stomach.

Jared chuckles, his eyes darting to Jensen's mouth as he says, “It is. They'll be pullin' hay outta places they didn't know they had for the rest of the summer.” With a wink, he adds, “I said it was an experience. I didn't say it was a good one.”

Jensen's laughter sounds way too loud with nothing but the crackle of the fire to accompany it. “I'll stick to beds and backseats, thanks.”

“That's too bad,” Jared answers, moving impossibly closer. His breath ghosts over Jensen's neck when he whispers, “Cause I was just thinkin' I'd sure like to blow you right here.”

His hand is already moving over Jensen's hip, into his lap, when his tongue snakes out to curl around Jensen's earlobe. He makes this deep, groaning sound that shoots straight to Jensen's dick and then chuckles when he feels the reaction against his hand.

“But, if you're not into it out here,” Jared teases, pulling back just enough to leave Jensen feeling cold, “I guess that's okay, too.”

Jensen's big fucking mouth is always getting him into trouble. 

Surging forward, he kisses Jared hard and nearly knocks both of them off of their seats. Jared laughs against his mouth, this wispy, airy sound that tastes like beer and perfection, before gripping Jensen's arms and steadying them both. He slides off of the hay bale without breaking the kiss and kneels between Jensen's legs, his fingers working the button on Jensen's jeans with ease.

When he finally pulls back, gasping for breath, Jensen tangles one hand in Jared's hair and manages to say, “You're kind of a pro at this, huh?”

Jared just winks – and really, who's being a cocky fucker now? - tugging until Jensen lifts his hips enough for Jared to slip his pants down to his thighs. The bale is soft beneath him, but he's thankful that Jared only slips his underwear down far enough to get his cock out. Once he realizes that Jared's massive hand is actually wrapped around his dick, though, Jensen could care less what he's sitting on or in or around. All that matters is the firm grip of tight heat, coaxing him harder than he has been in a long time.

There's a practiced ease to the way Jared dips his head and holds Jensen's dick to lave first at his balls. “Holy fuck,” Jensen grunts, one hand fighting for purchase on the bale while the other twists in Jared's hair. 

Jared's mouth is so wet, feels so fucking good as he works open lips up Jensen's dick; it's maybe the best head Jensen has ever gotten. He closes his eyes, groans a little louder than he should, and just lets himself feel the way Jared sucks at the head before sinking lower to take more. 

When Jensen's hips roll of their own accord, Jared moans. Jensen risks a glance, afraid that maybe it was the wrong move. Jared's mouth is stretched impossibly wide, lips white and stuffed full of Jensen's cock, his eyes sparkling wet in the dim light. 

He pulls back long enough to take a ragged breath and croak, “Do it,” before sliding back down on Jensen's dick. 

It takes every ounce of self-control that Jensen has ever learned to preserve to keep from coming instantly at the order, but he manages to hold out long enough to give a few lazy thrusts. He'd probably last even longer if he wasn't suddenly thinking about stretching Jared out in the grass and kneeling over him to properly fuck his mouth the way he'd like to right about now.

He has the courtesy, though he's not sure where the presence of mind comes from, to pull on Jared's hair before he comes and Jared manages to stroke him through it with a few growls and and an encouragement that Jensen is pretty sure Jared learned from a porno somewhere. It doesn't matter - anything coming from that fucked out throat would sound like porn to Jensen anyway.

Jared rises on his knees after Jensen comes, using his chest to prop Jensen's shoulders in place before he can sag to the ground like a rag doll. “Gimme,” he says, grabbing Jensen's hand and stuffing it down the front of his open pants before Jensen can protest, not that he would if he could form the words right now.

He doesn't need to see it to realize that Jared is big, so big and so hard, against the palm of Jensen's hand. “Holy shit, you're huge,” he mumbles brilliantly against Jared's neck. Jared whimpers as he guides Jensen's hand at a furious pace, so Jensen licks at Jared's neck before he adds, “Can't wait to feel it inside me.”

That's all it takes for Jared to come with a bitten gasp, laughter broken by his pant for air against the top of Jensen's head. 

“Jesus Christ, that was good,” Jared finally says, when they've both composed themselves enough to tuck in and readjust. 

If Jensen's honest, he could use a good shower, but Jared looks so content to sit here by the fire that Jensen doesn't want to suggest leaving yet. He doesn't want to say anything at all. Jared doesn't, either.

It's companionable, the silence between them, and when Jensen tries to break it, Jared just interrupts with a shake of his head. “I know.”

“Then why?” 

“You really think your world is so different than mine?” Jared chuckles, his profile barely visible. “My options might be more limited than yours, yeah, but we all have our summer hook ups and our one-time things.”

Maybe it's the chill of the night, but Jensen figures it's probably Jared's words that leave him feeling cold. Yeah, it's his own philosophy and, back home, he wouldn't think twice about saying the same damn thing. Here, it feels different.

“That what this is? A one-time thing?”

Jared gives him another one of those knowing smiles and shakes his head. “Maybe a few one-time things. Until you go home to your fun friends, ya know?”

Jensen doesn't want to think about what Misha and Aldis and Katie are doing right now. He just wants to sit here with Jared for a little while longer.


End file.
